


I Will Love You When You Are A Still Day (I Will Love You When You Are A Hurricane)

by PracticallyIJ



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PracticallyIJ/pseuds/PracticallyIJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q isn't doing too well, and after an evening of worrying about him, Sal decides to try and distract him with films and ice cream. That's just the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Love You When You Are A Still Day (I Will Love You When You Are A Hurricane)

**Author's Note:**

> Rated mature for smut and language. Also here be angst/heavy mention of depression, although a lot of fluff to counteract it. Enjoy!

When he thought back, Sal was certain he could pinpoint the moment the wheels set in motion for the chain of events that had led them to wake up together, the sun flooding in the window, and the TV blaring from the other room.

The day beforehand had been fairly typical for all four of the Jokers, except that they were filming two challenges instead of one - and Sal had also been gradually picking up signs that Q was not okay.

They were on the second challenge, a 'do I know you?' which was in the middle of a busy square, and if it wasn't for the fact that Sal had known Q for so long, he wouldn't have noticed anything at all for the amount of noise and people. They were sitting on some steps, holding some seriously ruthless cue cards up for Murr as he was trying to get some girl to admit she knew him, and Sal and Joe were crying with laughter. Q was chuckling every so often, and had a smile on for the cameras, but Sal could feel something off about him. He seemed tense and agitated, and he kept running his fingers through his hair. During a break in filming, Sal watched him, and as if sensing he was looking, Q looked over. A few different expressions flickered briefly over his face, but a second later, he plastered on a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You okay, buddy?" Sal murmured, touching him briefly on the arm. He was never fooled by the fake smiles Q put on just so that he wouldn't worry.

Q looked away, squinting ahead to where Murr was now attempting to hit on the same girl who he'd just informed he'd once pissed in someone's koi pond at a party. "I'm fine, Sal. Just tired." He looked back again, his smile back in place, but it didn't ring true.

******

Later on, Sal was at home, unwinding after a long shooting day. He was still thinking about Q. He wondered whether he was just worrying unnecessarily. After all, everyone was entitled to their off days, and some of them happened to fall on times when you had to work. That was life. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was up. Maybe it was because of that awful time all those years ago. Sal remembered that period with a mixture of emotions, largely composed of an aching, vicious sadness that his best friend could feel so worthless and unloved that he could want to end his _life_ , and what was sometimes an all-encompassing dread that one day it might happen again... and this time Q might not make it out the other side. Sometimes the terror - that he would wake up one day and the only thing that helped him make sense of this fucking terrifying world would suddenly be gone - kept him lying awake at night unable to breathe, tears running down his face and his chest aching.

He sat for a while, aimlessly flipping channels and staring at his phone, wondering what Q was doing, how he was feeling, whether he was okay - was he sleeping? Gaming? Was he drinking? God, Sal hoped not. Q drinking on his own was never a good thing, especially when he was feeling down.

On the heels of that last disquieting thought, and with the anxiety growing into a heavy ball in his abdomen, Sal made a snap decision. He stood up, got dressed and started gathering shit.

******

Ten minutes later, standing outside Q's house with an overnight bag, Sal noted that there was a light on in the living room. He got his phone out and dialled Q's cell. After a couple of rings, Q picked up.

"Sal? The fuck, you _never_ call me. What's up, buddy? Is everythin' okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me bud. Look, I'm outside your house. Are you - are you busy? Can I come in?"

There was a short silence, and a tinny clinking noise in the background, as that of someone hurriedly moving glass. Sal closed his eyes briefly as he realised his hunch had been right.

"Uhh, okay. Hang on, I'll just let you in." Listening carefully, Sal considered Q’s speech and decided he sounded fairly sober. Thankfully, he could hold his drink - for a certain length of time. There was a click as Q put the phone down, and ten seconds later the front door opened. Q looked... well, he didn't look good. Eyes soft and sad around the edges, mouth set in that embarrassed half smile that Sal always thought looked too much like an apology for his own existence, he'd dropped all pretenses of being fine. Dressed in an old t-shirt and loose sweatpants, his shoulders were a little slumped, as if someone had dumped the world on him. His head was slightly dipped, so that he was looking up slightly at Sal from beneath long dark eyelashes. Sal wanted to cry at how fragile and vulnerable his best friend looked.

"Hey, Sal. Come in, man. You want anythin' to eat or drink?"

Sal shook his head no, and followed Q inside, noting as they went the half-empty bottle of scotch hidden behind the coffee maker, and the empty glass dumped hastily in the sink.

Sal got comfortable on the sofa, and Q just sat there, frowning down at his hands as if they'd just told him to fuck off. Sal realised he was going to have to say something to get him to open up, so he leaned forward and gently placed a hand on his forearm.

"Q. I know you don't wanna worry people, and I get that there's some stuff that's hard to talk about. But I'm your best friend, y'know? What am I here for if not for when you feel like shit? Talk to me, buddy. I _know_ when you're not okay."

Q turned towards him, biting his lip slightly, eyes so sad and miserable that Sal could feel his heart breaking. “Fuck, Sal. I don’t know what you want me to say. Fine, I guess I’m not doin' so good today, buddy. But what is there to talk about when I don’t even have any fucking good reason to feel like this? It just… it just hit me outta nowhere, Sal. I just feel fucking _awful_ and I can’t even say why. It’s the fuckin' worst and I wish it would just… I wish I could just…” His voice cracked on those last words and he looked away, letting out a shaky sigh and squeezing his eyes shut.

Sal felt an overwhelming wave of compassion flood him, and tears filled his eyes. “Oh, buddy. Oh, Bri,” he sighed, chest heavy with the pain and hurt he felt for this guy, and with all the wishes he’d ever wished for him to be shot of this fucking shitty _disease._ “C’mere.” He took Q’s shoulders, turning him towards him, and enveloped him in a hug. Q stayed, unresponsive, at first, but then after a moment he wrapped his arms tightly around Sal, burying his face in his shoulder. Sal could feel him shaking, breathing hitched and irregular. He rubbed soothing circles on Q’s back, rocking slightly. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, buddy. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here.” They stayed like that for long minutes, Sal’s eyes closed against his own tears, murmuring low, calming words into Q’s ear. Eventually Q’s breathing calmed, and he half lay, half sat, limp and exhausted, against Sal, who kept his arms where they were.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mumbled a minute later, sitting up and wiping his eyes, “God, I didn’t mean to cry all over you. That was ridiculous... geez, what a fuckin' asshole.” His hair was messy, eyes red, and Sal impulsively reached over and tucked his hair behind his ear.

“Q, you needed this so bad. How long have you been keepin' it all bottled up?”

“I dunno. I guess I got used to feelin' like this, 'til it got too much.” He met Sal’s eyes and smiled wanly. “Thanks, buddy. I’m fuckin' exhausted now, but I feel kinda better.” he studied his hands, sitting in his lap, a second, then spoke up again. “Listen… I dunno what you had planned, but… will you stay the night with me? I just don’t wanna be alone right now. I mean, it’s okay if ya don’t wanna…?”

Sal took Q’s hand. “Of course I’ll stay with you, you idiot. Like I’d leave you alone like this. Besides, I already brought, like, a change of clothes, and my toothbrush, and movies, and ice cream. Y’know, just in case.”

Q laughed, the first genuine laugh Sal had heard from him all day. “Okay, let’s see what you got.” He rummaged through Sal’s bag, ignorant to Sal’s discomfort at him going through his things. “Hey, is that Rocky Road? Oh shit, the fuckin' _remastered version of Gremlins?_ Sal, I am really tempted to kiss you right now.”

Sal tried not to blush at that remark, but suspected he was failing horribly.

******

Three quarters through a pint of slightly melted Rocky Road ice cream, and fifteen minutes into Ghostbusters, Q and Sal were settled comfortably on one end of the sofa. Somehow, at some point during the evening, Q had inched closer to Sal, and curled up tight against him, head against his arm. Sal didn’t mind at all - Q’s warm weight against his side, the low rumble of his laughter and the feel of his steady breathing was a comforting presence. And he knew that the feeling of another person next to Q was helping him feel grounded, too - the guy wasn’t usually that tactile.

Feeling uncharacteristically bold, he eased his arm out from under Q’s head and around his shoulders, caressing him softly with the back of his hand. Q sighed and settled his head in the nook of Sal’s armpit. Despite the circumstances, Sal felt content, and he sensed that Q might too. It felt like the true peace after a hurricane, in which the sun comes out and the birds start singing, and everything feels like it might be okay again. Sal wasn’t naive enough, or enough of a stranger to depression to think that this was over for good - but he thought that at least for now, his best friend might begin to feel okay again for a while.

He looked down from the film to regard Q, who seemed totally absorbed, and without thinking, touched his lips to the top of his head and gently planted a long, lingering kiss there. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the clean, familiar smell of Q's soft hair. Then he drew back a little just as Q looked up at him, a small, soft smile on his face. There was a look in his eyes that Sal had never seen before - it looked like shyness, hope, and something that seemed to Sal to be frighteningly close to love. Their faces were just inches away, and Sal suddenly felt something pass between them - a mutual realisation of what was happening, the feeling that they were both standing on the precipice of something that had the potential to be either something beautiful or a destructive force - and if they stepped off the edge, there was no going back.

For a moment, in the wake of this shared epiphany, neither of them breathed. Then: "Sal..." Q said, barely audible. And he closed the gap between them to join their lips. For a moment, Sal felt really fucking weird, kissing his best friend like this. But then it passed, and he realised how right it felt, and why had he not done this before, and then he was kissing Q back, with all of the force and tenderness of his new revelation of love behind it. Every nip and suck of his bottom lip, every fervent, bruising kiss, Q matched with one of his own, letting out tiny moans, and Sal felt the sweet thrill of arousal curl through him, around him, almost lazily making its way to his groin. Letting out a little groan, he flipped them so they were lying down on the sofa, Sal on top of Q. He broke the kiss, and Q made a little noise of disappointment in his throat, until Sal started dropping messy kisses on his neck and jawline, which elicited gorgeous, breathy moans that turned Sal on even more. He shifted slightly, and rolled his hips against Q's crotch.

"Oh, God... _Sal_..." Q was biting his lip, his hold on Sal's hips tight, as he thrust upward, both of them beginning to set a jerky rhythm together.

A few moments later, like someone flicking a switch, Sal realised what they were doing and started panicking, anxiety rising suddenly in his throat. He leaned up on his elbows and looked at Q, who looked a mess of a completely different sort now - his half-lidded eyes were heavy with arousal, and his lips were swollen with being thoroughly kissed. He pouted a little at Sal. "What're you doin'?"

Sal shook his head. "God, Q, I don't know. What _are_ we doin'? Don't get me wrong, this is - fuck, this is amazing, but holy shit. What if this is all wrong? What if you only want this 'cause you're feelin' vulnerable and drunk? Is this gonna be just a huge mistake? Because I... because..." He looked away from Q, unwilling to say any more.

Q took his hands from around Sal’s hips, gently cupped his face and tipped his head towards him. Sal met his eyes, fearing what he’d see. “Sal, listen to me. This - what we’re doin'? This has been comin' for a long time, buddy. And I can’t fucking _believe_ that I didn’t see it until tonight. I don’t think you realised either, am I right?” Sal nodded, hope warring with anxiety inside him. “But except for bringin' us together like this - it has nothing to do with how I feel.” He thought for a moment, uncertainty on his face, then added cautiously: “apart from how I feel about you, I guess, bud.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t know if I could stand to lose you…” Sal took a deep breath and threw all caution to the wind. “Fuck, Q, if makin' out on your sofa won’t ruin our friendship, nothing else will. I guess I really _did_ only realise tonight, but thinkin' about it, I’ve felt it for a really fucking long time. I… I love you, buddy. Like, I... God, I fucking _adore_ you.”

At Sal’s final words, Q’s whole face lit up, as if someone had just taken the fucking moon down and offered it to him as a gift. He laughed in surprise and joy, and, taking Sal completely by surprise, grabbed him around the middle, hugging him tight. “Oh my God, Sal, _really_? Fuck, man, I love you too! I really, really fuckin' love you.” Then, letting Sal go, his face suddenly clouded over. “...But... why?”

Sal was confused. “Why what?”

“Why… why do you love me? I mean, look at me. I’m nothin’ special. And you _know_ me. You know what I’m like, all broken and depressed and shit. Anyone would tell you you could do better-”

He was interrupted by Sal, who kissed him angrily and possessively. “No. _Fuck_ that,” he said fiercely, “Q, I have spent so fucking long watchin' you believe you’re worth nothing, and it breaks my heart every single time. You don’t realise how gorgeous, how funny, how important, how fucking _needed_ you are, and fuck if I’ll stand by a moment longer and let you believe any of the bullshit that assholes have led you to believe over the years.” He stopped a moment to collect his thoughts, and realised that Q was staring at him, dark eyes wide and full with emotion, mouth slightly open.

“You… you really think that about me?” Q whispered, voice wavering.

Sal sat up, and pulled Q up with him. Lacing their fingers together, he gently planted a kiss on Q’s head, and drew their foreheads together, looking into his eyes. “Of course, buddy. You’re fucking _everything_ to me.”

Q smiled again, a little uncertainly but still genuinely. “I should have known that only you would be able to put up with me.”

Sal rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to _put up_ with you, there’s nothin' to put up with. You’re perfect as you are.” He punctuated the last sentence with kisses, Q responding in kind. What was at first just innocent kissing eventually turned again into much more heated making out, and Sal wanted more. He moved off of Q, hard-on becoming almost painful. “Bedroom. Now.”

Q, breathing heavily, pupils blown, waggled his eyebrows at Sal. “Buddy, you should know I _never_ put out on the first date.”

“Liar.”

“Ahh, ya got me.” Sporting a noticeable erection, Q got off the sofa and they made their way quickly to the bedroom.

When they were there, Sal, feeling suddenly possessive of this fucking stunning guy in front of him, kissed him hard, and pushed him down on the bed. “God, Q. You’re fuckin' gorgeous. You’re so fucking _hot_.” He crawled onto the bed towards Q, who was now sitting up against the headboard. “I wanna see you. Will you - will you let me undress you?” Q blushed, and looked away shyly, but nodded. Sal moved to straddle Q, kissing him deeply. Then, breaking the kiss, he took off Q’s t-shirt. Sal noticed that his eyes were squeezed shut now, and resolved to make him feel as beautiful as he truly was. He moved down, and tugged at Q’s sweatpants. He realised with some delight when they were down that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Eventually, Q lay before him, completely naked. His arm was slung over his eyes, his mouth in an embarrassed twist, and Sal realised how emotionally exposed he must feel. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured gently, “It’s okay. It’s okay. You are fucking breathtaking. God, you’re…” He shook his head as he realised there were no adequate words for how utterly beautiful Q was to him, so instead he decided to show him. He moved back up, gently pulling Q’s arm away from his face, revealing wide, vulnerable eyes. “You okay, bud?”

Q nodded. “I… yeah. I just… I don’t like the way I look so much, y’know?”

Rather than talk, Sal kissed him, trying to communicate with his mouth everything he _knew_ to be true about his best friend’s beauty and worth. Then, slowly, tenderly, he kissed every single centimetre of Q’s body. He kissed his jaw line, his chest. He left little marks all over his neck as reminders of his love. He took extra time to leave loving, tender kisses on the adorable pudgy roundness of his belly and on his hips, and he kissed every individual scar he could find on his body - on his arms and wrists, on his hands and legs. And in between every single kiss, every single little bite or nip and mark made on his body, Sal repeated the same phrase: “You’re perfect.”

Despite the fact that Sal hadn’t even touched his dick yet, Q was moaning, high and breathy, and calling out a mix of Sal’s name and curses. Then at some point it must have become too overwhelming for him - that someone was loving him and reassuring him in this way - because Sal realised that in between his moans and cries, he was crying a little, letting tiny sobs out. Sal shifted up the bed, brushing Q's hair out of his face. “ _Hey_... sweetie. It’s okay. You don’t need to cry any more, buddy. You know why?” he wiped his tears away, and Q looked at him, his face hard to read. He shook his head and Sal carried on, his voice low, forceful, and emotional, “Because I am going to make you forget that you _ever_ fuckin' thought that you weren’t the most stunning, exquisite human being in the entire world. And for every bad word that someone has said about you, I will say a _hundred fucking times_ that you are loved, Brian Quinn. You are loved and your worth is _infinite_.”

Q looked at him for a moment, and a single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He smiled, shaking his head slightly, an odd mixture of wonder, relief and incredulity on his face. His whole heart was in his eyes, and Sal abruptly perceived that after years of being shut off from the world, it was now laid open for him to do with whatever he wanted. He felt simultaneously lucky to be the one that Q finally trusted enough to love, and fearful that he could fuck this up real bad if he wasn’t careful. Q spoke, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you. Thank you _so fucking much_. That you believe that about me… it helps me hope that one day I - I might be able to believe it myself.”

Sal felt an overwhelming wave of love for his best friend hit him suddenly, and he kissed him, tasting salt tears and something else that he was coming to realise was just the taste of Q - as unique and indefinable and familiar as the way he smelled. Q groaned into Sal’s mouth, and Sal felt himself responding - arousal, sharp and strong, started building again in the pit of his stomach.

Sitting up again, he took his clothes off, peppering Q with messy kisses wherever he could reach as he did so, and haphazardly threw them into a corner. He grabbed Q’s hips - almost hard enough to leave bruises - kissing and nipping and licking his way again down his chest and his stomach, all the way down to his groin, dragging little moans from him. Then, gazing into his eyes, he dragged his tongue along the length of Q's hard shaft, kissed it, and wrapped his lips around the tip.

Q gasped. "H-holy fuck, Sal. Where'd ya learn to do _that?_ "

Sal swirled his tongue around the slit of Q's cock, which rewarded him with a groan, before replying with a smirk. "You of all people should know that you learn a few things at an all boys' school. Now shut up, I'm making you feel beautiful." He took Q's cock into his mouth, as far as he could, and moved his head up and down, setting a slow, steady rhythm. He wanted to make this guy forget everything bad anyone had ever said about him. He wanted to replace every bad memory with one of love and reassurance and affirmation. Q made little whimpering noises in his throat, and his hips bucked a little, but Sal had a firm hold on them still, fingers digging in slightly. Q's hands moved down to entwine in Sal's hair, and he increased the pace a little - which had the fucking gorgeous effect of Q calling out his name, long, slurred and drawn out, in between moans. Very soon after, Sal felt him begin to tense up, his hands disentangling from Sal's hair, fingers flexing slightly in the air, and he detached himself from Q with a wet _pop_ , smiling at the sudden look of frustrated dissatisfaction on his face.

"God, Sal," Q said, sounding husky and ragged, "you're fuckin' _killin'_ me here."

"I'm not done with you," Sal murmured, in between deep, hard kisses, "you can't come yet." By this point, his own erection, neglected until now, had become painfully hard, and impossible to ignore any more. "Ya got any lube, bud?"

Q gazed at him, warm brown eyes soft and heavy with lust. "Y-yeah. Side table drawer."

Kneeling, Sal reached for it, fingers trembling slightly as he grabbed the little bottle. Hyperaware of Q watching him, he blushed. "You okay with this? I mean, you've never - we've never-"

Q sat up, cupping his face with one hand, and interrupted his fretting with a kiss. "Sal, you just gave me the best fuckin' blowjob I ever had. And I trust you with my life. I _want_ you. I want everything you got, buddy, cos you got me for good now."

Sal stared at him for a moment, feeling incredibly lucky again to be the one his best friend could trust. Then, coating his fingers in lube, he eased one slowly and carefully into Q's hole, looking up anxiously when he stiffened in discomfort. After a second of adjustment, Q indicated he was okay, and Sal carried on preparing him, leaving warm, wet kisses on his stomach and thighs whenever he tensed up. For a while there was nothing but the sound of both of them breathing - Sal's steady, measured breaths juxtaposed against Q's hitched, irregular panting. Sal felt he could almost _hear_ the silence - it was fraught with anticipation, and he felt an eagerness that he suppressed in favour of giving Q as little pain as possible.

Soon, Sal had three fingers comfortably inside Q, and watching for a reaction, he curled his fingers slightly, twisting his hand a little. He must have done something right, because Q’s hips jerked up, and he gasped sharply, his head tipped back a little and his eyes half shut. He groaned. “Jesus _fuck!_ S-Sal! That feels fucking unbelievable... God, what are you doin' to me?” He let out a long, drawn out “ _...fuck_ …” as Sal, grinning, did it again, harder and faster this time.

“Uh, I’m no expert, buddy, but I think that’s meant to happen.” Sal deadpanned. He wasn’t totally naive to this shit, and realised that it meant Q was probably ready now. Good job too, because Sal was getting so fucking turned on by the noises coming out of Q’s mouth, by the faces he was making… he felt like he could come just from being touched right now.

Q evidently felt the same, because he began to beg. “No fuckin’ shit, Sherlock… _C’mon_ , Sal… Just - _fuck_ , I need you in me now!”

Sal didn’t need any more encouraging - they’d both had enough of foreplay. Quickly, messily, he removed his fingers and slicked his cock up with more lube. He grabbed Q’s hands and pulled him up into a kneeling position, then flush against him. Q wrapped his arms around Sal and, kissing him ardently, wrapped his legs around his waist. Sal held onto Q’s hips - there’d definitely be bruises in the morning, but he didn’t fucking care - helped lift him up slightly, and then slowly lowered him down onto his cock.

Q tensed up, gasping a little in discomfort, but Sal dropped kisses wherever he could reach, nipping and swirling his tongue around his nipples, and he relaxed. Then: “Shit, Sal, I’m not made outta glass…” And a moan escaped Sal as Q suddenly pushed down on his dick, as far as he could go. He thrust upwards in response, feeling overwhelmed at how tight and hot it felt.

Groaning Q’s name, he set a pace that sped up very quickly when he heard him cry out _more, faster, God Sal_ , and, watching his face, stunning in his pleasure, he couldn’t hold back his own cries: “Brian, fuck, you’re so beautiful, you’re fucking breathtaking, you don’t even know, God, I love you _so fucking much_ …” They moved together as one, gazing into each other’s eyes, and it wasn't long before Sal felt himself getting close. In his passion, he raked his nails down Q’s back, bit his neck, _wanting_ to leave marks, to leave memories so that he could remember he was beautiful. Q moaned, long and low, and came, shaking and almost sobbing, calling Sal’s name in between _I love you_ s and _fuckin’ incredible_ s, babbled like a prayer to new love and to hope. The expression on Q’s face - head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, blissful smile gracing his lips - combined with the feel of him contracting around Sal’s dick, tipped him over the edge, and he came too, swearing and groaning and biting Q’s collarbone.

While they came down from their orgasms, they remained sitting that way, Sal feeling Q’s heartbeat slow down, Q’s arms wrapped tight around Sal. Then, neither speaking, Sal slid out of Q, and they moved to lie down, Sal for once uncaring about the mess.

Limbs entwined, Sal stroking Q’s hair, they lay, gazing into each other’s eyes and simply revelling in each other's’ presence. Then Q spoke up softly, his eyes gentle and fond. “Shit, Sal. I’m gonna be fuckin' sore all over in the morning.” Just as Sal opened his mouth to apologise, he laughed. “That’s a good thing, idiot.”

They lay there for a while longer. Sal felt reluctant to ruin the atmosphere by talking, but a question was nagging at him. “Q… where do we go from here?”

Q looked surprised that Sal had even asked. “Well, I dunno about you, buddy, but I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Firstly, this is _my_ house, in case you forgot.” Sal rolled his eyes. “Secondly, everythin' I need is right here, so....” He looked back at Sal, a soft, affectionate smile on his face.

Sal felt so full with love and adoration for his best friend - his _lover_ \- that he couldn’t speak. Instead, he turned onto his back, Q moving to rest his head on his chest, curled up against him. They fell asleep like that, Ghostbusters still running on a loop in the living room, a quarter of melted Rocky Road ice cream forgotten for now, along with troubles and worries and sadness. It could all wait until the morning.     

 


End file.
